


2. Put On Fake Tattoos

by GideonGraystairs



Series: 146 Things To Do Besides Self-Harm [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Drabble, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GideonGraystairs/pseuds/GideonGraystairs
Summary: Maybe there's more to the story.This is a series of unrelated drabbles, meaning they can all be read separate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [Tumblr](http://raphaelsantiago.co.vu)

“What’s on your arm?” Magnus asked curiously from his position near the stove, one hand fluttering over the sizzling pan with a spatula while the other waved a dish towel through the air. There was a silence that followed, so long he almost forgot he’d asked a question, and in it he decided it may serve him well to turn around and get a better look at his boyfriend.

Alec stared at him wordlessly for another long stitch in the fold of the universe, sinking blue eyes like an unpredictable storm. A breath came, the storm shifted its attention to the linoleum walls of the kitchen, and Magnus could hear the sound of his swallow from all the way across the room.

“Runes,” the shadowhunter whispered softly, moving suddenly towards his boyfriend and the bacon about to start burning on the stove behind them. Magnus furrowed his brow in confusion, latching onto the graceful curves of fading black along Alec’s arms with rapt attention for detail.

Reaching out to run his hand over one and ignoring the way Alec flinched back at the touch, Magnus shifted his gaze back to the storming seas of blue. “You didn’t do these with a stele,” he commented, confusion lacing every careful intone of his voice.

“Marker,” muttered Alec as he set down the spatula he’d taken from Magnus and tugged down the ragged sleeves of his sweater to cover the marks in question. And then, just like that, he was slipping out of the room without another word.

Frowning what must have been permanently now, Magnus turned back to the breakfast he’d started before Alec had even woken up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was actually written in response to thiscantbelightgood on tumblr writing their own drabble inspired by mine (the first part of this story). Her tumblr is no longer active though so I have no way to ask permission to post hers as well, so here's my response to hers, as I think it still makes sense regardless.

“They’re just drawings,” he repeated to himself for the thousandth time, words he’d said to Magnus just as often. He tried to put the weight in them, the truth, but they flickered on the edge of a dream he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he closed his eyes and willed to be real. They were _just drawings_ , like his scars were just scars and Magnus wasjust Magnus, not the one thing he counted on when he couldn’t hold onto the thought of tomorrow.

It was a lie. Alec could see it in the way it fell from his mouth like water and not the heavy stone that so often accompanied the truth. He could feel it in the way his head ached, as though it were screaming for him to stop letting it tear itself apart, in the way his stomach curled like the words were something vile. They weren’t just drawings, like his scars weren’t just scars, but roadmaps to the awful truth and Magnus isn’t just Magnus, but the sun and the sky and the galaxy he wanted so badly to fit into.

They were reminders of desperation and a loss so great it stretched through time and never once faded, reminders of moments he wished he could erase.

“Alec?” Magnus called softly through the bathroom door, knocking lightly to ease the break from thought to reality. The shadowhunter sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes and repeating  _they’re **just**  drawings_ like maybe if he said it enough it could twist into the truth.

Splashing cold water from the bathroom sink over his face to hide the oceans spilling from his eyes, Alec pulled the door open to face his concerned boyfriend. “What is it?” he asked, careful to make his voice as neutral as he could so as to hide the tremor it’d held in his thoughts.

Magnus furrowed his eyebrows in concern, trails of golden-green slowly finding their way to Alec’s wrists where the fresh black of a sharpie stood out as stark as a raven in the snow. “Alec,” he repeated, more of a breath this time. “Won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Alec turned away- he couldn’t watch their hearts keep breaking in sync with every line of black he scrawled across his skin. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Magnus let out a soft sound, reaching forward to gather him into his arms like that might somehow shield him from the pain he tore himself apart with. His body felt like fire against Alec’s, melting away the icy shadows locked around his heart and replacing them with the need to be stronger, braver, more resilient to the cruelty of the world like Jace and Izzy and nearly everyone he knew. 

He knew it’d go away the minute Magnus’s embrace did, but every ounce of his being willed his heart to grow a set of claws and cling to it with all his love for Magnus and his growing love for himself. Maybe he could, one day when the sharpie wasn’t a stark black still smelling of fumes and the scars across his body didn’t whisper truths he couldn’t stand. Maybe he could, maybe he could talk to Magnus, maybe the scars could fade in his mind as much as they had on his skin, maybe he could remember how to breathe through the pain without feeling like he was falling apart.

Maybe, but not right now.


End file.
